


come, angels of the lord

by frankierose



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, also includes random bartender man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankierose/pseuds/frankierose
Summary: Gerard goes to his usual bar to get absolutely wasted, alone with no one there to help.Till he meets this dapper young man named Frank, performing on stage.Now, this might be the alcohol speaking, who knows at this point. But, holy fuck, is this guy hot or what?--(technically danger days gerard, but my chem isnt a thing in this, so.. cherry gerard LOL)
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	1. could i, should i

"I'm heading out."  
  
  
Gerard's voice echos throughout his barren home, containing nothing more than some furniture and his brother, Mikey.  
"Be safe, Gerard," said brother replies, a tinge of concern coating his vocal chords.  
  
"You know I always am," the scarlet haired man retorts, lying through his teeth at this point. The bags under his eyes are deeper than ever as he sighs and walks out their door.  
  
He doesn't know it, but Mikey is scared for his brother. Petrified, almost.  
Gerard's been struggling with alcohol for years, ever since they lost their grandmother - and their mom dying afterwards definitely didn't help.  
At this point, he lets him go. He won't listen to him either way.

-

The House of Wolves, Gerard's most trusted bar.  
He almost trips into the bar doors, the bright, luminescent signs advertising different alcohol brands making him squint as they burn into his retinas.  
  
The barkeep recognizes his footsteps at this point - such loud, heavy steps. You could probably hear him coming a mile away.  
"Ah, welcome back, Gerard. The usual?" the barkeep asks, cleaning a glass. Gee staggers over to one of the seats, nodding silently. The man on the other side of the counter sighs solemnly, preparing a drink for the young man.

In the beginning of Gerard's bar trips, he'd always try and talk him out of it - you could tell he was hurting, y'know. But he's stubborn as a bull, and at this point the barkeep has learned to let the man drink. He slides a sort of mixed concoction over to Gerard, his pale hand catching it and bringing it up to his mouth to take a drink.

It burns the back of his throat as he swallows, but at this point it's unnoticeable. He's been drinking too long to worry about it anymore. Yeah, sure, he could die in a day for all he knows, but might as well have fun doing it.  
  
His eyes roam to the crowd forming around the lit up stage in the center of the bar. There's a single stool in the middle of the stage.  
"Is someone performing tonight?" he asks, eyes lingering on the stage, curiosity taking over him. He always enjoyed a nice show, made him feel a bit less alone.  
  
"Oh, yes. He's a young man named Frank, pretty talented," the barkeep responds, focusing on washing dishes. "He's got a nice rock sort of feel, I think you'd enjoy his music."  
  
Gerard takes a glance at the man across from him, humming in response as he takes a sip of his drink subconsciously.  
"Well, I'm looking forward to it, then."  
  
A few minutes pass as a young man walks out onto the stage, wearing skin-tight, ebony jeans, a dress shirt and a fiery, crimson tie.   
His hair is quite interesting - shaved and blond on the sides, and on the top is a contrasting, dark black fringe, slightly covering his right eye.  
He plugs the guitar he brought out into an amp behind him, puts the strap over his head and lets the guitar hang off him as he situates himself on the wooden stool under him.  
  
Now, this might be the alcohol speaking, who knows at this point. But, holy fuck, is this guy hot or what?  
Gerard's cheeks feel a bit warm as his usually pale cheeks flush a light shade of pink. Making sure not to make eye contact with the barkeep, he waves for another drink, which would soon reach him.  
  
His eyes wander back over to the man on stage, Frank. There's definitely something about him that makes Gerard's stomach flip, although he doesn't know what. He drinks absentmindedly, forgetting the burning sensation that the alcohol gives him as he gazes at the music man. He always wanted to write music, maybe start a band - Mikey's one hell of a bass player, for sure. But he never really knew that many people as interested in music as him.  
  
Shit.  
Frank's now looking back at Gerard, smiling slightly as he sends a little wave. Quickly becoming flustered, Gerard makes sure to break eye contact with him immediately as his face feels beet red now from embarrassment. (the alcohol probably doesn't help.)

With that small smile still plastered to the young man's face, he adjusts the mic stand accordingly and starts to speak into it.  
  
"Hey everyone, my name is Frank and I'll be singing for you this evening," he announces, light feedback coming from the mic. "This song doesn't have a name 'cus I'm too fucked to name any of my songs, but tonight it goes out to the dude at the bar counter with the red hair."  
  
Bar counter? Red hair? Gerard straightens up and whips his head around to find Frank looking at him again, with the goofiest grin on his face. He sends a little smile back, shooting him a wave, his cheeks still a bit red from before. Did he really just do that? Jesus, this is not making Gee feel any better about himself.  
  
Frank clears his throat, and starts to play, his fingers picking at the guitar strings gracefully as he leads into the beginning of the song. When he starts singing, a shiver runs down Gerard's spine - his style is definitely rock, alright. His voice is so rough, yet soft and quiet at the same time, you can feel the emotion he puts into his songs. Subconsciously, he starts swaying to the sound of Frank's guitar, occasionally taking sips from his drink. Finishing it, he waves the barkeep once again for another round.  
  
As he snatches the drink away from the man across, his eyes light up as an idea pops into his brain. Sure, he might regret it but, y'know what? What's the point of living if you don't take risks, right? Also he might be a _little_ drunk so he probably won't remember this anyway.  
Grabbing a crumpled up piece of paper from one of his pockets (he always has paper and pen when he's out, you never know when drunken inspiration might strike.) and a pen from the other, he flattens out the paper, scribbles something only a little coherent and folds it neatly enough.  
  
"Hey- hey, bar dude, man," he mumbles, sliding the slightly crinkled paper to the other side of the counter. "Can you give this to.. what's his name, Frankenstein over there, once he's done.. y'know, singin' and stuff."  
Gerard very unsubtly points to the singer on the stage as the barkeep looks back and forth a couple times between the young man with the tie, and the hollow, intoxicated man in front of him.  
  
"Gerard, are you sure you aren't going to regret this-"  
  
"Shut up, shut up, I- I know what I'm doin', don't you sass me!" Gerard cuts the bartender across from him off, his voice slurring slightly. The man on the other side of the counter sighs, shoots Gerard a 'why the fuck are you doing this' type of look, but takes the piece of paper anyways.  
As Frank's voice slowly fades out, his guitar giving off a twang, the barkeep slides out of the bar area and goes to greet the man on the stage.  
  
Gerard can't make out what they're saying but the middle aged man from the counter hands the younger man the folded message, pointing back at the jacket wearing shell at the bar counter. Frank looks up from the paper to look over at him, sending him soft smile as Gerard covers his face, not willing to make eye contact.  
The bar man proceeds to make his way back over to the bar counter, continuing to wash dishes as Gee keeps his eyes on Frank, impatiently waiting for his reaction.

As he unfolds the note, eyes scanning through the scribbled words, it says:  
  
 _You're really fucking badass and I like your singing. Maybe we could hang sometime, I don't fucking know._  
 _xoxo, g_

A wide grin creeps up onto Frank's face as he folds the paper back into a square and slides it in his back pocket. He unplugs and picks up his guitar to disappear behind the stage.  
  
Gerard sighs, looking at the empty glass in his hands. Damn it, he should have known better. Who would want to hang out with, let alone even talk to, a dusty alcoholic like himself-

"Hey, mystery man."  
  
Practically shooting the glass across the counter, Gerard jolts up from the sudden appearance of Frank sliding onto one of the stools next to him.  
"Fuck man, you gotta be louder than that! Almost gave me a goddamn heart attack," he blurts out, the end of his sentence coming to a hoarse whisper.  
  
"Didn't know I was that stealthy!" Frank snickers. "I'll make sure to stomp all the way over here for you next time."  
Gerard scoffs, struggling to keep his eyes off the unusually lean man next to him. His features are much more easily defined up close, which makes it much harder for Gerard to get him off his mind.  
  
"So, uh... Mind telling me your name, 'G'?" Frank's voice breaks the awkward silence between the two of them, their eyes meeting up once again.

  
  
"Gerard."


	2. i don't believe in luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gee has a panic attack and accidentally does a bad because of alcohol, so his new friend has to take him home!

"Gerard, huh?"

Gerard nods as he waves the bartender over for another drink.  
"I know, I know, it's _'definitely something'_ ," he murmurs, sarcasm coating the end of his sentence. "Don't even fuckin' start, dude."

"No, no, I think it's really nice," Frank blurts out, twiddling his thumbs. "Frank's no better, y'know."  
  
Gerard takes a glance at the short man next to him, smiling slightly.  
"I mean, you've gotta point there..."

Frank blinks, scoffing quietly as a grin creeps up onto his face.  
"No, see, you're supposed to _compliment_ me there. Not insult me more than I already have," he retorts, still beaming at Gerard.  
  
Smiling back, Gerard takes a sip of his drink. His smile makes him feel all sorts of ways, many of which he should probably not be feeling. But fuck, man, how is he supposed to help it, especially when a guy this cute walks up to him when he's _this_ drunk?  
  
Awkward silence ensues, Frank fidgeting in his seat while Gerard chugs down more alcohol.  
  
"Hey, man, how much alcohol have you had?" Frank queries, breaking the silence. Gerard hums, thinking about what to answer with while circling his finger around the rim of the now empty glass of liquor. He's probably had roughly, like, six or seven drinks here? It's all kind of a blur at this point.  
  
"Erm, I dunno. Prolly at least five now," he responds, tip tapping his fingers on the bar counter. "Although if I'm being completely honest, I did drink before I came here so.. was already a lil' buzzed."  
  
He takes a glance at Frank, being met with a sort of grimace as Frank's eyes shoot from the empty glass to Gerard.  
"You think you should maybe stop soon? Those drinks look pretty fucking strong," Frank asks, shifting a little in his seat to get a better look at the empty glass.  
  
"I know my limit, _Frank_ ," Gerard slurs, turning his body to face the man beside him. "You only just met me and you're already startin' to worry about... about my alcohol dealios?"

" _Alcohol dealios?_ Dude, you are so fucking wasted. You just do a reasonably okay job at hiding it," Frank continues, but for Gerard his voice is going in and out of focus.  
  
What's happening? There are too many things happening at once, why are all the people talking so loud?  
Gerard can hear everyone's voice individually, the lights burning at his eyes, all while there is a humming in his ears. His eyes flick back and forth, trying to find something to focus on but everything is all foggy. He can't find comfort even while looking at Frank.  
  
"Wait, Frank- Frank, shut the fuck up," he croaks, his hands roaming around, trying to find something to hold onto. "Frank, I'm gonna be.. I'm gonna be sick, I feel sick."  
  
"Woah, woah, everything okay? You need like, a bucket or s-?" Frank starts but before he can finish, Gerard leans over, clutching his stomach and-

"...Shhhit."  
  
Vomit, on the floor, on Gerard, and more importantly - _on Frank._ Oh, _God.  
_"F- Frank, I'm so sorry, I dunno wha's going on, I-"

"It's alright man, don't worry, it happens to the best of us," Frank cuts Gerard off before he can finish. The smell is _rancid,_ but he knows Gerard didn't mean to. "I think... we should head to the bathroom before you puke anymore. I'd also like to not be covered in vomit."  
  
Gerard manages to choke out a small, painful laugh, before nodding to agree to go to the restroom. Helping Gerard out of his seat, Frank shoots the bartender a 'i am so fucking sorry' look, to which he replies with a nod and a wave as if saying 'it happens more than you'd think.'

Once they reach the bathroom, Gerard sloppily heads to one of the stalls, while Frank immediately takes off his puke-drenched dress shirt. He turns on one of the sinks, putting his shirt under the tap to let it soak as he works on cleaning up his pants with numerous paper towels.  
  
The sound of Gerard vomiting some more is definitely something you would not want to hear. Thank God, the tap drowns it out for the most part, but damn, he's loud.  
The toilet flushes, stall opens, and Gerard appears next to Frank, leaning over the sink adjacent to him.  
  
"How you doin'?" Frank asks, glancing at the ruined man beside him. He's gross, sweaty, smells terrible - although that might just be Frank's clothes.  
  
"Y'know... just threw up, twice. Will prolly throw up more," he murmurs, sighing as he runs his hands through his crimson hair.  
  
Frank hums a reply, and continues to clean up his clothes, not knowing Gerard's sliding a few looks at his bare chest. He may feel like shit but Frank is still _hella_ hot.  
Only the sound of the tap is heard at this point. I mean, what else is there to talk about? He just puked on a person he barely knows.  
  
"Hey, man..." Frank begins, Gerard glancing up at him to show he's listening. "You want to come to my place after this? You really don't look in a good enough shape to go home alone."  
  
Gerard noticeably perks up once Frank mentions his place, but deflates almost immediately, knowing he really shouldn't, especially without telling Mikey.  
"...Thanks for the offer, but I think.. I'm gonna hafta pass," he replies, taking a deep breath and straightening himself out. "I can go home by m'self, don' worry."  
  
Of course, as soon as Gerard tries to walk, he stumbles and almost hits the cold, hard floor. Thankfully, someone was there to catch him. Someone, very... very attractive in this light. Now he has the stupidest grin on his face, thank God Frank is smiling back.  
  
"Nope. I'm bringing you back to my house," Frank's voice straining as he hoists Gerard up and puts him back on his feet. "No buts."  
  
Gee responds with a groan, but he _supposes_ he'd rather not die from stumbling drunkenly into a street tonight.

"Alright. Fine," he huffs. But, rather quickly, the stupid grin from before creeps back up on his face. "You hafta carry me bridal style to your car, though."  
  
" _Hell_ no," Frank snickers, turning the tap off and twisting the now sopping wet shirt. "I am too short, and you are too heavy for that bullshit."  
  
"Aww, come on, Frankie," Gerard whines. "You're a party pooper, man. You are really.. just completely shitting on my party right now, y'know that?"

Frank responds with a small chuckle, flapping his shirt out over the sink.  
"Come on, put your arm around me - I am _not_ letting you die tonight," he says, tying his shirt around his waist, hoodie style.  
  
Gerard blinks, hesitating for a moment before he replies. "You gonna put your shirt back on?"  
  
"No, it's fucking wet! I don't wanna be damp for the rest of the night," he grumbles, taking some paper towels to dry off his hands. "Do you have a problem with that, _Gerard?_ "

"Nope, all good with me," Gerard grins as they make thrilling eye contact again. It gets his drunken heart racing every single time he looks at him.  
  
Sliding over, Gerard brings his arm around Frank's shoulder as they walk out of the bathroom, heading to the entrance of the bar. The vomit had been cleaned up - thank God for that bartender.  
  
As Frank pushes open the doors, he inhales sharply as the cold, night air hits his bare skin. It feels like millions of tiny daggers are piercing at him repeatedly, but admittedly being wet would be worse.  
  
"Y'want my jacket?"  
  
Frank looks up at Gerard, being met with a pair of bright, worry-filled hazel eyes. He smiles slightly, letting out a quiet laugh.  
"No, I'll b- be fine, Gee," he shivers, sliding his free hand into his pocket. But before he could really protest, a jacket has already been slid onto him.  
  
"You need it more than I do," Gerard mumbles, his breath turning into a little puff of a cloud in front of him. Sure, he might be cold too now - I mean, all he was wearing under there was a tank top - but it's better than wearing no shirt at all. And Frank deserves it after what he's done for him.  
  
  
"..Thanks."  
  
"N'problem."

The car ride to Frank's house was fairly quiet. Gerard was too exhausted (and too drunk) to start up small talk at this point, he just wanted to sleep in a warm bed now. Frank just wanted a shower, and a shirt.  
  
They'll get there eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiii i hope u Like this one :> more stuff wiill b comin in the next chapter!!!! which ill start writing 2day :3  
> -xo sam


	3. pick up the fucking phone!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gee is TOTALLY fucking hungover from last night... luckily theres a beautiful prince to save him- oh wait that's just frank. my bad.

Oh. Oh dear God, it's so fucking bright, what the fuck?  
  
"Damn. Honestly didn't think you were ever gonna wake up. Morning, sunshine."  
  
Wait. Is that?  
Oh _fuck._ Is he playing video games? What the fuck is happening, man. _  
  
_"Frank??" Gerard mumbles, morning grogginess hitting him like a rock- no, a boulder. His head hurts like absolute fucking hell, holy shit. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."  
  
Frank snickers his eyes plastered to the TV in front of them. "Nah dude, nothing to worry about. It's alright."  
  
He winces as his character dies, and he finally meets Gerard's eyes. He's just as beautiful as last night - at least, as beautiful as he remembers. He can see his collarbone peeking through his Misfits shirt, and dear God would he like to bite that motherfucker.  
Although, when he tears his eyes away from his neck, Frank's face has contorted into a sort of combination of 'I pity you' and 'Oh God, what an abomination.'  
  
"Holy shit, dude. You look absolutely terrible."  
  
"Ha. Thanks. Feel like it too," Gerard groans as he shifts himself up to use the couch correctly. His feet hit a bowl lying on the ground and he kicks it away. Ew. "I assume that means I puked more last night?"  
  
"Yeah. Lost count, honestly. Thank God, I cleaned that bowl though," Frank jokingly shivers and makes a gagging noise. "Fucking rancid, that shit."  
  
"Shut up, not my fault you took me to your house," Gerard grumbles, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, it is really bright in here. Why do you even have your curtains open?"  
  
Frank takes a quick side-glance at Gerard. "Do you.. not have your curtains open at your house?" 

"Yes, I, a depressed alcoholic, who is constantly hungover, has his curtains open," Gerard starts, being met with a confused look from the man slouched next to him. He sighs. "No, Frank, of course not."  
  
He's met with a shrug, Frank really leaning into his video game playing. He's literally on the edge of the couch, damn.  
  
"Ahem. You wanna close the curtains, maybe?"  
  
"Fuck! You made me die, dude!" Frank yells, but quickly switches to a whisper as he notices Gerard flinch and let out a painful moan. "Shit. Sorry, man. Yeah, I'll close the curtains..."  
  
He grumbles, pausing his game and throwing his controller on the couch to get up and close the tacky curtains he has. "Better?"  
  
"Yeah. Y'know, while you're up..." Before Gerard even finishes his sentence, he's cut off by a loud groan. "Oh my God. You are so childish. I was just going to ask for some water and aspirin."  
  
Frank deflates, groaning once again. "Fine. Only because you're an asshole."  
  
"Thank you!" Gerard giggles as Frank slouches away. "And you're going to have to tell me what happened last night when you come back, 'cus I have absolutely no fucking memory of it."  
  
Another groan. He's only known Frank for literally a day, but he can tell he's a literal dumbass. Also he's still very hot. Damnit. He sighs, lying down again. Just as he does so, his phone goes off. Who would be texting him, especially now?  
  
Wait. "Oh, God- Mikey!"  
  
Scrambling to find his phone, Gerard untangles himself from the blankets he caught himself in and snatches his phone from the ground. Shit. Twenty-six texts, seventeen missed calls.  
  
_'g you good man its getin l8 4 u'_  
1:14 AM. God.  
_'gee u there?'_  
1:48 AM. Shit.  
_'r u fuckin w me man this isnt funny'_  
2:32 AM. Fuck.  
_'pls msg me back gerard im worried abt u'_  
2:41 AM. Gerard can't read anymore.  
  
He scrolls all the way to the bottom.  
_'you fucking asshole please don't be dead why haven't you messaged me yet'_  
10:21 AM.  
  
Gerard feels even shittier now, holy fuck. Didn't think that was really possible.  
  
He types out a quick reply to Mikey's texts.  
  
_'Im so fucking srry Mikes I got rlly wasted last nite Im at this cute guys house his names Frank. Im alive dont worry Ill tell u all abt wht happened when Im home'_  
  
His phone makes a wooshing sound once he presses send. God, he is such a fucking idiot. He should know better than to leave Mikey like that, after all they've been through.  
  
He groans, tossing his phone aside and hunching over and rubbing his eyes once again. They're unusually dry. His stomach hurts, his head hurts, his eyes hurt, everything fucking hurts. He's an imbecile. A gross, mentally ill asshole who abandoned his brother.  
  
"I got your water and pills, your majesty- woah, you good man?" Franks' disembodied voice sounds reasonably worried.  
  
"No. I'm hungover and I disappeared on my brother last night. Of course I'm not 'good, man.'" Gerard mumbles a reply, not wanting to look at him. He can hear Frank shuffling over and setting said water and pills on the ground, and he can feel the couch's weight shift as he sits down.  
  
"You.. wanna talk about it?" Frank mumbles, his voice surprisingly quiet and small.  
  
"Dude. You're hot and all, and I appreciate you taking me in, but I've known you for a day. No." He wishes he could, though. Not really how it works, sadly. He can't just dump all his problems on this stranger he just met.  
  
"You think I'm hot?"  
  
That was.. not the response he was expecting. Did Gerard say that? He doesn't remember saying that. "I what?"  
  
"You called me hot. I mean, I could care less, you just caught me off guard," Frank grins his stupid fucking grin. Gerard can't see it but he knows he's fucking smiling like a dumbass. "You mean it though?"  
  
"Thought you said you could care less," Gerard looks up, a little smile appearing on his face. He _is_ smiling. He's really cute when he's smiling.   
  
"Yeah, but like. I mean. You said it, man," Frank pauses, hesitating a little. "I don't think you're too bad yourself."  
  
Gerard's face feels too warm for comfort at this point, so he buries his face back in his hands. "No, this is not going to happen. I can't let this happen, you know that Frank."  
  
"Not in like, that way! Like... I dunno, can't guys think guys are cute?"  
  
Is he genuinely asking this?  
  
"Frank. Shut up. Can you just tell me what happened last night?" Gerard asks, letting out a sigh of relief as Frank replies with a nod.  
  
"Well, we were talking after my show. Then you got all panicky and vomited on me. We went to the bathroom, you puked more and I had to clean up my shirt and shit. Bartender was nice about it though," He pauses, recollecting his thoughts, maybe reminiscing about Mister Bartender Man. What great times we had together, hm? "I was all like, 'dude I'm bringing you home there's nothing you can do about it' and you were like, 'ugh fine whatever'. You gave me your jacket 'cus I wasn't going to wear my soaking wet shirt home, and that's basically all that happened. Other than you puking more here."  
  
Oh. That's not terrible. "Really? I didn't say anything I would've regretted sober?"  
  
"I mean, you didn't really _say_ anything. You fell on me, and I caught you, rom-com style. It was so romantic," Frank swoons, sarcastically of course. "That was probably the worst thing though."  
  
Gerard groans again. "Did I really?"  
  
Frank nods, that stupid stupid STUPIDLY cute grin appearing again.

His phone pings. Thank God, something from Mikey. He quickly swipes it and checks his texts.  
  
_'who tf is frank'_  
  
Oh thank the lord, he's not mad. Gerard types up another reply, rolling his eyes.  
  
_'I told u hes a cute guy I met at the bar. He plays guitar u shouldve seen him'_  
  
"Who are you texting?" Frank's now leaning over to look at Gerard's screen.  
  
Gerard quickly hides his phone from Frank and makes a scrunched up face at him. "Privacy, dude."  
  
"What? I'm just curious..." Frank mumbles, looking down at his hands instead.

Gerard sighs. "My brother. I need to let him know where I am so he knows I'm not fucking dead."  
  
"Oh. Okay," Frank replies, zoning out on something that probably doesn't matter. "Do you.. still want your aspirin?"  
  
"Oh, shit, yeah. I forgot about that, thanks man," Gerard yawns and flips the blankets off of him. He slides off the couch onto the ground, grabs the water, takes a sip and swallows the pills. "Pills suck."  
  
"They'll help, though," Frank chimes in again, sliding down next to Gerard.  
  
"Shut up. I know that, you dumbass," Gerard rolls his eyes, and just as Frank was about to snap back with a snarky comment, his phone makes a noise once again.  
  
Gerard twists around to grab his phone off the couch, hiding it away from Frank's view.  
  
_'oh aight whtvr u say come back by dinner'  
  
_Gee's face lights up, a smile crawling on his lips. Dinner? That's pretty fucking late. Man, he has the best younger brother.  
  
_'I will love u bro x'  
  
_"You have to leave by dinner?" Frank's voice spooks Gerard a little, his hazel eyes pointing him. Engrained in his brain. Damn, they're fucking pretty.  
  
Gerard snaps out of his dumb lovey-dovey daze and shoots a glare at the man next to him. "Dude. What did I say about privacy. What did I fucking say?"  
  
"You... technically just said 'dude, privacy' but fine, whatever. I won't snoop on you anymore," Frank pouts, pulling his legs up to his chin.  
  
"Don't pull that shit on me, you jackass," Gerard scoffs, throwing his phone aside again. He hopes he's not actually sad.  
  
"What if I'm actually sad? What if you ruined me, Gerard, what if I died right here and now because of what you said to me?" Frank says, pulling his best 'pity me' face. This is NOT making Gerard feel any better.  
  
"Shut up, I don't need this right now," Gerard sighs, rubbing his face in exasperation. "I'm so fucking exhausted."  
  
"You wanna sleep more?" Frank asks, being met with a confused glance from Gerard. "I mean, since you apparently have till dinner to stay here, you could just relax, man. I could get you food, too, you're probably hungry."  
  
He is really hungry, considering he puked his guts out and it's almost 11:30 AM now. He nods silently, closing his eyes and leaning back against the couch. He hears Frank shifting and walking off to get some snacks.  
  
God, what was he going to do? He's stuck here with a really really really attractive dude he barely knows with a hangover. What were they going to do to make time pass? How is he supposed to say 'bro, I think you're really hot can we like, fuck or some shit? I know we just met but.. I dunno man I just have a feeling about you'? Can he even say that??  
I mean, it's true. He really wants to get into his pants. Is that gross? Maybe a little, considering they've known each other for less than a day. But people have one night stands all the time, and it's Franks' fault for being so, _so_ fucking hot. He'd treat him right too. Or try to, at least, considering he is an alcoholic with severe mental problems. Wait until he sees that side of him.  
  
But he'd never hurt Frank. Never.  
  
"Okay, I dug through my fridge and cupboards and I got half a bag of Cheetos, a box of frozen waffles, and an apple. Probably the best breakfast I've ever been able to find," Franks' voice appears suddenly again, Gerard hadn't even noticed he came into the room.  
  
"Oh. Yeah, cool. Thanks." Gerard mumbles, his brain running really fast right now. Is his face red? He fucking hopes not.  
  
Frank nods, walking over and sitting next to Gerard. He sets the assorted food items down on the carpet for Gerard to choose from, and picks up his game again. This time, he grabs another controller though, and waves it at the pale, puffy-eyed man sitting next to him. "Wanna play?"  
  
Gerard answers with a muffled 'sure' - he was mid-waffle - and takes the controller from him.  
  
  
  
They played video games together, Gerard occasionally snatching a few looks at Frank while they do so. He makes the dumbest face when he's concentrating.  
There's lots of laughing and some yelling, which is accompanied by Gerard wincing in pain and Frank apologizing repeatedly.  
  
The time goes by really quickly. They take breaks sometimes to eat food together, talking about random things. He found out that Frank is deathly afraid of spiders, and germs, and he apparently can't stand the cold.  
  
"I'm sorry, how can you say summer's the best season? Obviously fall is, dumbass. That's when they have some of the best coffees at Starbucks, dude," Gerard squints at Frank, taking a hand-full of Cheetos absentmindedly.  
  
"Sure, but it's always fucking cold! I can't deal with that shit. Rather go swimming, or drink some lemonade with someone."  
  
And just as he finishes that sentence, they both manage to go for the Cheetos bag at the same time, accidentally bumping their hands into each other. Gerard's eyes widen as he snatches his hand back away from the bag. "Shit. Sorry, dude."  
  
Frank laughs, it's so fucking adorable, and pops a single Cheeto in his mouth. It's kinda hot. God, that's really gross, how does everything he manage to do become hot? "Oh shit, oh shit, we touched hands! I'm gonna fall in love with you now, Gee, it's gonna happen."  
  
"Shut up." He really, really wishes that would happen. And now he can't keep his eyes off Frank's mouth. Wonder how it feels.  
  
Frank giggles, which is even more adorable, and licks his orange Cheeto-dusted fingers, which is also somehow disgustingly hot.  
  
"Dude that is _so_ fucking gross," Gerard cringes, at both himself and Frank. Why does his brain treat him like this?  
  
Frank just shrugs and picks his controller back up. "Come on, hurry up. We gonna play more or what?"  
  
Gerard rolls his eyes, wiping his hands off on his jeans and picking his controller up as well. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."  
  
  
  
The time comes for Gerard to leave.  
  
"Am I going to be able to see you again?" He asks, his hands awkwardly placed in his jean pockets.  
  
"Maybe. You gonna be at the bar again, is the real question here," Frank replies but quickly cuts Gerard off before he could even reply with his own words. "Oh! Oh, wait, dude, I'll be right back, I need to get you something."  
  
He dashes off to.. get something for Gerard, I guess? He's so fucking weird.  
  
Frank comes back with Gerard's leather jacket in his arms, holding it out for Gerard to take. "You gave this to me, remember? I mean, I don't really need it, so..."  
  
Gerard hesitates. As much as he'd love to have his jacket back, it's... kind of romantic to let Frank keep it. Maybe that'll give him a sign.  
  
So, he shakes his head, smiling softly. "Nah. Keep it, Frankie. I already have enough jackets."  
  
He doesn't, but the look on Franks' face after he says that is so fucking worth it. "Really? You sure?"  
  
Gerard nods, his smile becoming wider by the second. "Yeah."  
  
"Thanks, Gee."  
  
  
And before he can even walk out of the door, Frank gives him a long, tight hug. And he hugs back.  
  
"Dude. You still have to drive me home."  
  
Frank looks up at Gerard, grinning his shit-eating grin. As usual. "I know. I just wanted to give you a hug."  
  
"Oh. Alright," Gerard can feel his face getting warmer, so he averts eye contact. Like that'll help, you know. "Uh, we ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah. Always, duh."  
  
  
The car ride is a lot more... active this time. Considering Gerard's feeling better than he was last night, he realizes Frank actually talks a lot. Like, a _lot.  
  
_But it's okay.  
  
  
He likes listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE U ENJOYED! this one is quite a bit longer than the others LOL. had fun writing it though!!  
> this goes out to everyone who has stuck with me even tho it took me almost 3 months to get this out. thank u, and im so glad u like my writing!!  
> -xoxo sam

**Author's Note:**

> TY FOR READING! =]  
> i will be updating soon so i hope u enjoyed ^__^ (also sorry for tha cliffhanger LOL)


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